WHY I LOVE SOCCER/NY
9:07 a.m. I'm insanely late to work and am on the uptown 6 train platform, shaking like a palm tree in a hurricane from a food-free coffee blast. I've got my iPod in my hand and am feverishly searching for the 10-15 minutes of music I'll use to speed up my adrenaline drip before I turn into an office lobotomy for 9+ hours.
The train comes. As I'm stepping onto the car, the iPod slips out of my hand and is heading right for the gap between the train and the platform. I bend down to catch it, and my sunglasses pour out of my shirt pocket.
Thanks to a childhood of soccer, I swing my right foot (I'm left-footed) and safely kick my iPod back onto the platform. It skitters about 6 feet, while my momentum carries me onto the train, and two women gape at me. Then their eyes turn to a fixed place outside the door. I follow their gaze, I jump outside the doors and pick my iPod up, it's still working. I reenter the train.
One of the women mouths something...my earbuds are still lodged firmly in my brain. "You wop we woppw op." I take the earbuds out. "You dropped something else." I jump back off the train. Her friend says, "it's on the track". "My sunglasses", I realize. They're gone. I re-enter. The train pulls out.
I sit down a couple seats across from one of the women. Her friend is sitting directly across from her; let's call her Woman 2. I'm checking out the iPod - it still works, and now I really need that 10-15 minutes of music. But she asks me a captivating question:
"Would you have gone down into the tracks to get that iPod?"
I don't have an answer for that. The iPod is a pricey piece of equipment, yes, but not worth a human life. On the other hand, I've spent countless hours loading songs onto that thing so I can paint any moment I'm experiencing with the appropriate hue. So I start rationalizing -- it's rush hour and trains are coming every 2 minutes. But all I need to do is jump down - I'm several feet away from the third rail - grab it, and come back up.
My reverie is broken by woman 2: "I'd jump down there in a second for my iPod, my cell phone."
We get to talking. Her boyfriend has told her there's a recess under the platform to hide in if a train does come. I engage; I ask her what her boyfriend's been down on the tracks for. It turns out he's an MTA employee and knows the minutiae of track jumping. She also confirms that most people don't realize how deep the track is; it's about 6 feet 4 inches. And then Woman 1 puts the question to me again - would I go after an iPod?
I realized the answer hinges entirely on my ability to pull myself out of a 6 foot 4 inch ditch. I've never done that. And if you're down there and a train comes, there's no way to predict how you make out in panic mode.
The conversation ended, and I plugged myself into a song. A couple stops later, they got off and tapped me on the shoulder to say goodbye. I'll never ever ever see them again.
In thses hree minutes, I was reminded yet again why I love living in New York City. We're rats 99% of the time, but when we plan our 1% prison breaks, someone's watching. On top of that, they listen and help us escape.
The train comes. As I'm stepping onto the car, the iPod slips out of my hand and is heading right for the gap between the train and the platform. I bend down to catch it, and my sunglasses pour out of my shirt pocket.
Thanks to a childhood of soccer, I swing my right foot (I'm left-footed) and safely kick my iPod back onto the platform. It skitters about 6 feet, while my momentum carries me onto the train, and two women gape at me. Then their eyes turn to a fixed place outside the door. I follow their gaze, I jump outside the doors and pick my iPod up, it's still working. I reenter the train.
One of the women mouths something...my earbuds are still lodged firmly in my brain. "You wop we woppw op." I take the earbuds out. "You dropped something else." I jump back off the train. Her friend says, "it's on the track". "My sunglasses", I realize. They're gone. I re-enter. The train pulls out.
I sit down a couple seats across from one of the women. Her friend is sitting directly across from her; let's call her Woman 2. I'm checking out the iPod - it still works, and now I really need that 10-15 minutes of music. But she asks me a captivating question:
"Would you have gone down into the tracks to get that iPod?"
I don't have an answer for that. The iPod is a pricey piece of equipment, yes, but not worth a human life. On the other hand, I've spent countless hours loading songs onto that thing so I can paint any moment I'm experiencing with the appropriate hue. So I start rationalizing -- it's rush hour and trains are coming every 2 minutes. But all I need to do is jump down - I'm several feet away from the third rail - grab it, and come back up.
My reverie is broken by woman 2: "I'd jump down there in a second for my iPod, my cell phone."
We get to talking. Her boyfriend has told her there's a recess under the platform to hide in if a train does come. I engage; I ask her what her boyfriend's been down on the tracks for. It turns out he's an MTA employee and knows the minutiae of track jumping. She also confirms that most people don't realize how deep the track is; it's about 6 feet 4 inches. And then Woman 1 puts the question to me again - would I go after an iPod?
I realized the answer hinges entirely on my ability to pull myself out of a 6 foot 4 inch ditch. I've never done that. And if you're down there and a train comes, there's no way to predict how you make out in panic mode.
The conversation ended, and I plugged myself into a song. A couple stops later, they got off and tapped me on the shoulder to say goodbye. I'll never ever ever see them again.
In thses hree minutes, I was reminded yet again why I love living in New York City. We're rats 99% of the time, but when we plan our 1% prison breaks, someone's watching. On top of that, they listen and help us escape.
posted by stinkrock at 12:49 AM
6 Comments:
Stinkie worte:
>>"I've spent countless hours loading songs onto that thing so I can paint any moment I'm experiencing with the appropriate hue."
Truer words for the iPod have surely not been written more clearly.
Valid question from the woman:
to what lengths would you got to DIE for a piece of plastic?
;-)
Not an iPod owner, because I have 4000 songs IN MY HEAD,
Dfactor
Sorry - that should've read at what lengths would you GO to DIE....
I'd only jump down for it if I was with someone who could help me back up. Otherwise, I wouldn't consider it mostly because of the 10 inch deep coat of schmegma that your feet would hit and you'd undoubtably have to put you hands in once you landed.
>>"I've spent countless hours loading songs onto that thing so I can paint any moment I'm experiencing with the appropriate hue."
Truer words for the iPod have surely not been written more clearly.<<<
Yeah, but don't you have those songs on your iTunes on your computer? Wouldn't it be as easy to get a new one and then sync it up?
It is true, btw, that there are niches in the walls at subway platforms where you can hide if you are on the tracks and a train comes. You can also, I think, duck under the overhang from the platform.
Dfactor: what lengths? 6 feet 4 inches. 2 meters, basically.
DC: new iPods cost money. if I couldn't propel myself up and I saw a train coming into the stop, I could easily run forward in the tunnel past where the train stops and throw my (now useless) earbuds at the windshield to alert the driver that I'm on the tracks.
Post a Comment
<< Home